


The Yorktown Treatment

by snarkypants



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Mentors, Starfleet Academy, Training, Trek Women, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkypants/pseuds/snarkypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the First Anniversary Ficathon in June 2010; for the prompt: While at the Academy, Kirk serves some kind of internship or field experience on the Yorktown under Number One's command. Do they have any conflicts? What does she teach him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yorktown Treatment

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Debriefing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/209779) by [snarkypants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkypants/pseuds/snarkypants). 



**The Yorktown Treatment** by snarkypants

 

 

James T. Kirk stared at the schedule on his PADD. “I’m command track. I’m not going to be a noncom; do I, uh, need to know about this, sir?”

 

“That’s a very good question, Cadet Kirk, and one that I expect you’ll be able to answer yourself before long. I’ve been told that you’re practically a genius.” The captain of the _Yorktown_ , known familiarly (and therefore rarely) as Number One, didn’t look particularly impressed.

 

Undaunted, he gave her a lazy grin. It wasn’t a blatant come-on; he was far too clever for that. The invitation implicit in the look was plausibly deniable, but if she chose to take him up on it… well, who was he to refuse a senior officer, particularly one who, despite her age and reputation as a tightass, was still reasonably attractive?

 

She tilted her head to the side, considering. “I would like to ask you something… personal. But perhaps you might think it forward.”

 

“I doubt that, Captain; I’m an open book.” He held his hands wide in illustration.

 

She paused for a moment more. “How much can you bench press, Cadet?” she asked. Did he just imagine that her voice was huskier?

 

“105 kilos, sir,” he said, successfully resisting the urge to preen.

 

“Really?” She bit her full lower lip, and lowered her voice, as though sharing a confidence. “You may be the best person for this task...”

 

=====

 

James T. Kirk spent the first three days of his Field Experience aboard the Yorktown climbing up and down Jefferies tubes, wearing thick bandoliers of cable over his shoulders as he strung lines from deck to deck.

 

“You’re doing a fine job, Cadet,” Lt. Commander Barry said, barely looking up from her PADD.

 

“Wha-what exactly is this for?” he gasped.

 

“Sorry, that’s need-to-know information.”

 

He slumped, looking at her. “ _Really?_ ”

 

She looked up at him, and despite being two decades younger and nearly 13 centimeters shorter than Winona Kirk, there was an expression in her eyes that was eerily like his mother’s, cool and exacting, and he took an involuntary step back. “Tube monkey haul cables or ship not work so good,” she said slowly and patiently. 

 

“Yes, Commander,” he said, hitching the cables back up and turning away.

 

Barry sighed and her expression eased. “Do you think that everyone on this ship knows exactly why they’re doing the tasks they have to do?”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“But they do them anyway. Without questioning and without bitching.” She snorted, amending: “Without bitching _much_.”

 

“Okay, I get it, Commander.”

 

Barry grinned at him. “I heard you were a smart guy.” She slapped his exquisitely sore shoulder as she passed. “Carry on.”

 

As soon as his arm, shoulder and thigh muscles had more or less recovered (with the assistance of daily hyposprays from Dr. Boyce) he found himself on his fourth day suited up in moisture-impervious gear to maintain the filters in Water Treatment.

 

That evening after his shift, Cadet Kirk made his way yet again to sickbay, walking even more gingerly than ever.

 

“What is it today, Mr. Kirk?” Boyce asked, a grin lurking at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Chafing,” Kirk said from between clenched teeth.

 

“Ah. Water treatment day.” The doctor patted his shoulder in a distinctly avuncular manner; Jim wondered if there was a lecture on that technique at Starfleet Medical, because Bones did it, too, when in Medical Officer Mode. “They didn’t tell you about the spray you need to apply before putting on the suit, did they?”

 

“No,” Kirk gritted out.

 

“Well, that’s easily remedied. I’ll give you a cream you can apply to your… area… and that’ll take care of it.”

 

“Thank you,” Kirk said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

 

“You’re not the first rookie to come in here with that ailment, and you won’t be the last.” He paused. “Have they sent you to get a bucket of steam? Muffler bearings? Chem light batteries?”

 

“No,” Kirk said through clenched teeth.

 

Boyce shrugged. “That’s good. Means they don’t think you’re an idiot.”

 

“They had me combing the ship’s databases, looking for I-D-10-T forms.” Kirk’s gaze was as flat as his voice.

 

“Hah! That one’s older than I am.”

 

Kirk shifted, wincing as his abraded flesh rubbed together.

 

“Let me get you that cream, son,” Boyce said.

 

=====

 

“Have I done something to offend you, Captain?” he asked her in the Officers’ Mess after dinner on the fourth day.

 

“Not yet Mr. Kirk. Why do you ask?”

 

“I don’t understand why I’m being put on the most uncomfortable, menial jobs on the ship. This is not what I’m training for.”

 

She didn’t bristle or flush with anger or annoyance; if anything her expression became even more composed. “You will have as many away missions and as much bridge duty as you can stomach once you graduate from the Academy. This is an opportunity for you to learn some things you can’t learn as a bridge officer or as a cadet.”

 

“Good evening, Captain, Mister Kirk,” Commander Louw said, appearing seemingly from nowhere. “Is there a problem?”

 

“Not at all, Commander,” the captain said. “The cadet had some questions about his assignment.”

 

“Excellent; I’ll be only too happy to answer your questions, Cadet,” Louw said, baring his teeth at Kirk.

 

“Do you have reports for me, Commander?” the captain asked.

 

“Yes, sir; if you’ll allow me five minutes I’ll meet you in the briefing room. I wanted to update Mr. Kirk on his next rotation.”

 

She nodded. “As you were.”

 

Louw steered Jim towards the back of the now-empty Mess. “Now, _Cadet_ Kirk… let’s talk about the chain of command, shall we?”

 

=====

 

Cadet Kirk spent his fifth and sixth days replacing a coolant coil in the energy-sapping heat and brain-rattling noise of the heat exchangers, leaving him only barely able to stagger to his shared quarters by the end of each shift.

 

Each crew member wore a hydration suit, attached by an umbilical to a tank filled with potable water and electrolytes. The suit’s helmet issued instructions every few minutes to drink, and monitored the duration and flow rate of each sip, thereby ensuring sufficient hydration for the technicians, regardless of their species.

 

It was not a dangerous job per se, only tedious and uncomfortable; the most dangerous aspect of the job was one’s crewmates.

 

Officially, deviating from the hydration schedule could mean being removed from the crew, leaving the rest of the crew to complete the work without him, and making a long, unpleasant job even longer and more unpleasant.

 

Unofficially, deviating from the hydration schedule could mean getting your ass kicked. Kirk was proud that he did not learn this firsthand, being wise enough to take the warnings to heart.

 

He spent the entirety of his seventh day on board _Yorktown_ sleeping.

 

=====

 

The first officer of the _Yorktown_ , Commander Kerneels Louw, was big and genial and perilously easy to underestimate, and he had a way of putting people at ease that made him approachable and popular.

 

This was one of the reasons Number One had chosen him; their combined leadership styles amounted to what Christopher Pike had called, in one of his more whimsical moments, “Good Cop, Bad Cop”. Where One’s natural reserve could be off-putting, Louw’s warmth made up for it. The flip side of Louw’s warmth was the volcanic blast of his fury when crossed, which made One’s remoteness a comparative relief.

 

“How is our Mr. Kirk progressing, Commander?” One asked.

 

Louw smiled, which made him look like a handsome blond shark. “Our resident ‘cadidiot’ seems to be sleeping off the effects of a coolant coil change.”

 

One gave him a mildly reproving glance. “We were all ‘cadidiots’ when we were at the academy, Kees.”

 

Louw nodded agreement. “Tomorrow he’ll have a light duty morning with Lt. Marcus in Environmental, and then he’ll pull a split shift in Xenobiology tomorrow night. The day after that he’ll be working in the Engineering back shop, finishing up with a turn through Security.”

 

“How are his mech skills?”

 

“Better than most second year cadets. Better than a lot of ensigns, for that matter; he knows how to handle a wrench.”

 

“Good. Cait will have fewer reasons to maim him.”

 

“She seems to have made quite an impression already; he’s not looking forward to that rotation.”

 

“He’s not the only one she’s made an impression on; the last time I went to my own engine room unannounced I thought she was going to stand on tiptoes and smack my shins with a hydrospanner.”

 

Louw gave an exaggerated wince. “If questioned, I will resist revealing that you made disparaging remarks about Mr. Barry’s height and chosen profession in the same breath, Captain.”

 

“Nice to know you’ve got my back, Commander.”

 

“Always, sir.”

 

=====

 

Carol Marcus smiled at Jim as he fastened his trousers. “You always in such a hurry?” she asked.

 

“I hate to—” he grimaced and mimed running away.

 

“Pump and dump?” Carol asked, giggling at his chagrined expression.

 

“I’m due in Xenobiology in fifteen minutes.” He bent to kiss her on her shoulder, brushing aside a curl of sunny blonde hair. “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed his way up her neck to her mouth.

 

“I bet you say that to all the sentient beings,” she said, biting his lip.

 

“Only the gorgeous ones.”

 

“All right, then; get back on your little hamster wheel and run, run, run.” She wrapped herself in a cocoon of sheets. “My shift’s over; I think I’m going to take a nap.”

 

“Bitch,” Jim said, without heat.

 

“Prick,” she replied equably.

 

“I’ve, uh, had a lot of fun with you.”

 

“I’ll bet,” she said, grinning widely and waggling her eyebrows at him.

 

 “I want to see you again.”

 

She shrugged. “You just want access to my single-person quarters.”

 

“ _You’re_ not rooming with Crewman ‘Flatus’.”

 

“He’s Andorian; he can’t help it,” she said, throwing a pillow at his head; he caught it easily and tossed it back.

 

“Like hell he can’t; have you seen that guy put away Buffalo wings? He brings it on himself, is what I’m saying, and then the entire deck has to pay for it.”

 

“Xenophobe.”

 

“Nope, I just like breathing. But like I was saying, I want to see you again.”

 

“It’s a free ship, Mr. Kirk.”

 

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You said you’re coming back to the Academy to start your Ph.D. in August, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, _you’ll_ be at the Academy, _I’ll_ be at the Academy…” He let his voice trail off suggestively but she wasn’t jumping to his conclusion; her expression didn’t change.  “I want to take you out somewhere.”

 

“We’ll see,” she said.

 

“ _’We’ll see’_? What the fuck, Carol? You want to or not?”

 

“Aren’t you due in Xenobiology?”

 

“I’m sorry; do you not _speak_ Standard?”

 

Carol closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Look, I try really hard not to take people seriously, especially if I’m fucking them. You think this is my first rodeo, cowboy? We had fun together, but you’re leaving in, what, five days?”

 

He nodded, sullen.

 

“By the time I get back to San Francisco I could be involved with someone else; you could be involved with someone else. I’d rather not make plans this far out; if it works it works, and if it doesn’t, well then, no blood no foul.”

 

“What if I said—” Jim began, but Carol cut him off.

 

“Thank you, _no_. If I wanted any kind of ‘arrangement’ I’d get married.”

 

“That’s not what I was going to say. You think I want a _commitment_?” He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

 

“I don’t think for a second that _you_ want a commitment. But you want one from _me_.”

 

Jim ran an impatient hand through his hair. “ _Dinner_. In _August_. Not a contract.”

 

“ _I_ may be _busy_.”

 

Jim raised his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Fine. You know what, I _will_ be busy.”

 

“Precisely my point,” Carol said, wrapping the sheet more securely around herself.

 

“See you around.” He stalked out of her quarters.

 

“Good-bye, Jim,” Carol said to the closed door.

 

=====

 

The rest of his assignments passed more or less uneventfully; he barely remembered his shift in Xenobiology, preoccupied as he was with his argument with Carol. He scanned a lot of samples into the data banks, and was relieved when shift change came.

 

He managed to stay out of Cait Barry’s way in Engineering, and even spent a couple of hours with the custodial crew; although this was purely accidental (his roommate had “accidentally” locked him out), he’d liked the crewmembers. They loved being on _Yorktown_ and, amazingly to Kirk, actually liked their jobs. They weren’t a bunch of dummies, either. One guy was writing a book in his off-duty time, and the repetitive nature of his work kept his “mind clear”, as he put it. Another person just liked being on board, working in proximity to the action, being part of the team. Another one wanted to travel the galaxy, and if scrubbing out the heads was how she achieved it, she was content enough.

 

To be sure, some of them weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer, but it was a satisfying job: things got dirty, they cleaned them, and they helped keep _Yorktown_ one of Starfleet’s most prestigious ships.

 

His final two days on the ship were spent with ship’s security. Security Chief Supomo was as tough and brown and beefy as jerky and twice as salty. The first time Kirk met the chief he had walked in on Supomo telling an off-color joke to the captain; Kirk would soon learn that this was neither the dirtiest joke the chief knew, nor was it the dirtiest joke he’d ever told the captain.

 

“—and the ensign goes, ‘Rectifier? Hell, I hardly even know ‘er!’”

 

Kirk braced for impact, but the captain just groaned. “Not one of your better efforts, Chief,” she said.

 

“Ah, well. I got it from the chief on _Entente_.”

 

“That would explain it. Good morning, Cadet Kirk,” Number One said.

 

Kirk snapped to attention. “Good morning, Captain, Chief.”

 

“At ease; you’ll be working with the chief for the next two days, is that correct?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

 

“Thanks for stopping by, Captain.” Supomo turned and looked at Kirk, much like one would size up an opponent. Kirk was halfway relieved when the chief nodded and jerked his chin towards a bank of vidscreens.

 

“Watch for anything out of the ordinary.”

 

Jim sat down at the screens. “Uh, Chief, how will I know if it’s out of the ordinary?”

 

“Well, if it stays one way for a long time, and then suddenly changes, it might be out of the ordinary.”

 

Right. “Should I tell you if it changes?”

 

“No. If you see phasers, unauthorized personnel or arterial blood spray, _then_ tell me. Otherwise you’ll note it in your log.”

 

“Aye, chief.” Kirk sighed. It was going to be a long two days…

 

=====

 

By the end of the shift he’d been promoted to temporary chief.

 

It was no reflection on him; they would have temporarily promoted anything with a pulse, but it allowed the entire Security team to meet in the gymnasium and run drills, while Kirk stayed behind and listened for the comm.

 

His feelings about this were mixed.

 

On one hand, if there were an emergency he wouldn’t have to sit in here watching vidscreens; as if on cue, one of the Security team grinned at the camera and flipped Kirk the bird. Kirk flipped back, despite knowing that the guy couldn’t see him.

 

On the other hand, if there were an emergency he was completely unprepared. He’d just have to wing it, and while he generally excelled at winging it, he’d never winged it when there were more lives at stake than just his own.

 

The team returned at the end of the shift, amped-up and sweaty, and when Kirk was relieved of his temporary duty he joined them for their post-shift beer.

 

His second day in Security was significantly more interesting.

 

“So what’s up with this mining colony?” Kirk asked. “We’re too close to Earth for it to be undiscovered territory.”

 

“They dropped out of communication a few days ago; our guys are down there checking it out,” Supomo said.

 

“Is that all we know?”

 

Supomo shrugged. “All we have to know.”

 

About an hour later the comm squawked: “Security team to the transporter room.”

 

“Finally, some action,” Kirk said, grinning at the chief.

 

The chief just looked at him, and secured his sidearm. “With me, Cadet.”

 

“Aye, Chief.” Kirk likewise secured his sidearm; he’d had some training with the chief that morning.

 

“Do not fire unless given the order, is that clear?”

 

“Aye, Chief,” Kirk said again, as they rounded the corner to the transporter room.

 

Ensign Chanda Ojha’s body flailed on the deck as she struggled to breathe; her face and hands were nearly as blue as her Sciences tunic. Louw knelt beside her, administering CPR.

 

“Get a containment field around them, now!” Chief Supomo barked at the transporter tech.

 

Dr. Boyce pushed through before the field was up. “What the hell happened?”

 

“Allergic,” Louw gasped between breaths.

 

“To what?” The doctor dropped to his knees beside him.

 

Louw shrugged, continuing until Boyce could take over.

 

The doctor prepped a hypospray and shot it into the woman’s neck, grimacing as her color didn’t improve. “I’m going to have to get her to sickbay, stat.”

 

“We don’t know what she reacted to, doc,” Supomo said. “It needs to stay inside this field.”

 

Boyce cursed under his breath. “Then transport us directly to sickbay, and we’ll seal it off from inside.”

 

Supomo nodded at the transporter tech, and Boyce, Louw and Ojha glowed briefly before disappearing. “This transporter is offline as of now,” he said. “Seal the doors until we can clean this place up. Kirk, you’ve done some decon cleanup, right?”

 

“Uh, yes, Chief.”

 

“Good. Let’s get going; the sooner we get this done the sooner we can get ourselves to sickbay and isolate this bullshit.”

 

 

=====

 

 

“Did you know her?” the captain asked, her eyes never leaving Ensign Chanda Ojha’s face.

 

“We, uh, had a history class together my second year.” Kirk cleared his throat; they’d been in the same study group. She’d had a wicked, albeit pointless, crush on Bones (who had spent that year alternating between moping over his ex-wife and daughter and mooning over some nurse in his clinical rotations), and Chanda hadn’t been at all receptive to Jim’s attempts to distract her.

 

The captain nodded. “I’m sorry.” Jim couldn’t tell if she spoke to him or to Ensign Ojha. The captain touched one of Chanda’s lifeless hands, pausing for a moment. She spoke a few fluttering words that Jim couldn’t quite catch, and then turned away. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, and Boyce covered the Ensign as One left Sickbay with Kirk in tow.

 

“Chief Supomo said you did well during your Security rotation.”

 

He shrugged. “Thank you, Captain, but I just did what I was told to do.”

 

“That’s one of the more difficult lessons.” She made a brief, bitter noise. “Much harder than choosing to go against orders, particularly if one is bright and driven.”

 

He looked at her with sudden interest. “So… how _do_ you know? When to follow orders and when not to?”

 

She sighed. “The fact that you followed orders: will it keep you awake tonight?”

 

“No, sir,” he said, without hesitation.

 

“Then that’s how you know.”

 

“If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s pretty damned vague. Sir.” He looked at her in alarm; one generally didn’t use strong language around a captain, particularly on her own ship, particularly when one was seriously outranked, but she didn’t give any indication that she noticed or minded.

 

“Yes, it is. Go get some sleep, Mr. Kirk.”

 

“Yes, sir.” He paused. “Captain?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Kirk?”

 

“I think I’ve figured out what you wanted me to get out of this Field Experience.”

 

“Excellent.” She turned away.

 

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

 

“I _know_ what it is, Cadet and if you’ve gained any insight into the service from your time here, your time has been well spent.” She put out her hand and Jim took it. “It has been a privilege serving with you, Cadet Kirk.” She shook his hand. “I hope to serve with you again someday.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Jim said.

 

“Now get some rest; it’s been a very long day.”

 

“Yes, sir. Good night.” He watched her as she walked down the corridor and disappeared into a turbolift.

 

====

 

The senior staff, officers and enlisted, of the _USS Yorktown_ gathered in the briefing room for a farewell dinner.

 

“Mister Kirk,” Commander Louw said, standing. He raised his glass of beer. “You made it through the Yorktown Treatment.” Whistles and catcalls greeted this statement. “And you only went over my head _once_.” Laughter. “New ship record.” Even more laughter. “Gentlebeings, raise your glasses to Cadet Kirk!”

 

Jim tried to nod graciously, even though his face was scarlet. One of the engineers buffeted him on the shoulder. There was a lot of laughter directed at him, but none of it was contemptuous; that felt like success. Cait Barry even winked at him as she drank her toast.

 

When it was his turn to stand, he cleared his throat. “Thank you Commander. When I was given this assignment, everyone in the third and fourth year command classes acted as if I was going to my doom. For most of my classmates, FieldEx is a two-week liberty from books and exams, but for we few, we happy few, who serve our FieldEx on _Yorktown_ , it is… something else entirely.” This was met with knowing chuckles. “The phrase ‘hell week’ has been used…” His voice was drowned out by laughter. “Not by me, of course.”

 

“Oh, of course!” “ _Suuuuure_!” “No, never!”

 

He waited for the heckling to subside before continuing. “Thank you for this opportunity to experience Starfleet service from the lower decks up. Thank you for putting up with my rookie mistakes.” He paused for effect. “Thanks for not kicking my ass.”

 

“Tour’s not over yet, Jimmy!” Security Chief Supomo yelled.

 

He chuckled, and raised his pint glass. “Gentlebeings, to _Yorktown_ and her crew.”

 

Everyone at the table drank a toast to their ship. “To _Yorktown_.”

 

“And to her captain,” Kirk said, meeting Number One’s gaze as he raised his glass; she bowed her head briefly in acknowledgement.

 

“To the captain,” the crew said as one, drinking another toast.

 

=====

 

“Hey, Carol. Lt. Marcus.”

 

Her stony expression didn’t change a bit as he walked over to her. “Yes?”

 

“Look, here’s my comm address. If you want, buzz me when you get into town.”

 

“If _I_ want…” she said. “I’ll consider it.” Her dawning smile and the buttery yellow of her hair reminded him suddenly of the daisies his Grandma Kirk had grown when he was a kid in Riverside: simple and good. It didn’t make much sense; Carol wasn’t remotely simple, and as to her goodness, he didn’t know her well enough to speculate. But she made him think of Home, with a capital “h”.

 

He was in some serious shit.

 

He bussed her quickly on the cheek, before she could stop him, and he headed toward the transporter room, whistling.

 

 

 

 _fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Some Metric conversions for us Yanks:  
> Kirk can bench 231 lbs; not too shabby.  
> Winona is about 5 inches taller than Cait.  
> Louw is 1.9 meters, or 6’3” or so; I see him as a South African Alexander Skarsgård. Because I can.
> 
> (It always takes me out of a story when I have to do the metric conversion.)


End file.
